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The other day I was in the shower, where I do my best thinking, probably because it's kid-free and somewhat quiet, and the lyric from a beloved hymn, Great Is Thy Faithfulness, came to mind.

"Strength for today, and bright hope for tomorrow...."
You see, I had been thinking a lot about fear and anxiety. I have had some hectic and crazy days and have spent my fair share worrying about how to get all that I need to do in the next several weeks.

I was not alone in my worrying...I had also spoken with two kindreds who were also walking through similar things. All of us super planners, the fear of the unknown and unplannable was almost paralyzing.

As I thought about that line, I realized that what I had been wanting was strength for tomorrow and next week and next month.

But as the song so eloquently says, the strength is not in tomorrow, it's in today.

Yes, there is bright hope for tomorrow because my faith is in my great and faithful God. But there is no strength in tom…

I knew this going into it, but I think I might have romanticized it a teensy bit when everything was well-tended and move-in ready.

The reality is that it takes a lot of work to keep everything looking as ideal as it first did.

Most weekends will find us outside doing all sorts of farm chores. We have whacked walnut shells out of a tree, pruned trees in the orchard, picked up massive amounts of citrus off the ground and off of trees, pruned grape vines, pulled tumbleweeds, converted an outbuilding to a chicken house, created an animal enclosure, repaired the animal enclosure, modified the animal enclosure, etc.

Today was like most weekends and as I was getting ready to shower off the grime, I thought about what we had spent our hours on outside and realized that to anyone else, it would like we hadn't done a thing.

Because all of the work we did was hidden.

Literally hidden.

We have had some losses recently. First it was our one lone white chicke…

Life has shattered me into a million tiny pieces. But God has taken each one and is creating a new work of art out of my life. I'm homeschooling four children on a small farm and living in a 100 year old farmhouse. Lots of animals and mouths to feed. The days are long but sweet. Coffee is my BFF.